I was at my last stop of the day on Wednesday. Window cleaning all day long. A bunch of ladder work, and I was pretty pooped.

Painters were still working the front of the house, so today, I would do the back windows on the outside, and all the inside windows.

I had nearly finished. The ladder seemed heavy, and I was huffing and puffing every time I moved it.

So, I saved the three high windows at the backdoor for last.

The room had a polished tile floor, with furniture in front of all the windows.

There was a kids version small wooden picnic table with two wooden benches in front of the first one.

I slid the two benches off to the side. There was probably room for the picnic table there, but, for some reason, I felt like I should move it out of the way more.

I slid the table pretty far from the window so it would not be in the way.

I set up my ladder on the first one, the most difficult one.

Before I went up the ladder, I noticed that I had a response on my phone from one of my blog commenters. Still asking me to answer his questions in the way he wanted.

We were in a long going (argument) discussion.

Later, I thought, I just want to finish this job.

He had been troubling me for some time for “real evidence that God is real” and never seemed satisfied with any thing I said.

He said I was copping out, just like all Christians do, and he knew so many who “had been genuine Christians” and had deconverted.

I had told him I didn’t believe that was possible, because I had been broken, and when I converted, “I had been fixed. A whole new person.”

“So,” He asked me, “If you were deconverted, would you be un-fixed?”

“It’s not possible,” I said.

The latest comment was “answer the question.”

I thought I had, so I went back up my ladder, finished the tallest window, came down and moved the ladder.

“So heavy” I puffed.

As I climbed, when I got to about 12 feet, the ladder slid.

I tried to quickly go down, but instead flew off.

First glimpse was how far away the floor was.

Next I landed on my back with a crash.

Not a thump. A crash.

Picnic table? How did I land on the picnic table? I moved the table out of the way, didn’t I?

If you’ve ever fallen from a distance, you know you don’t jump up.

I cried, “Lord, Jesus.”

The pain was real.

My next thought. “Third fall. How do I tell Wendy?”

The argument I had been having didn’t seem very important.

I stood. “That’s good.”

Arm movement hurt.”I’m not gonna try to finish. Just gotta figure out how to get my stuff out of the house. Left arm, no strength. Think I broke my shoulder blade.”

On the floor is a splintered child’s picnic table.

Many splinters.

I moved it out to the patio. “I’ll have to explain this to the owners,” I thought as I huffed, and puffed, an gasped in pain as I made trips to my van to load my stuff.

Yeah, I drove home. A little over an hour.

Pure will power.

In the emergency room, I told the doctor about the picnic table miracle.

“So, I had moved that picnic table out of my way. When I fell, 12 feet up, I landed flat on my back on that picnic table.” He made a face like that must have been really bad.

“It saved my life. It cushioned my fall. My head never hit the floor.”

I have to say right now that I don’t have a reason for moving the table to that place in the room.

I certainly didn’t plan to have it there, just in case.

There had to be one orchestrating this process.

Bad things happen all the time, but we have to be looking for the little things, the small details that change everything, the proof of a loving knowing God who knows what we need when we need it.

The CAT scan showed broken left shoulder blade (I knew it) and a broken back (T4 vertebra, fractured and compressed, but in place). No surgery.

I smiled. It could have been so much worse.

I wrote my online opponent the next day.

“I like to think that the reason I don’t have brain damage, crippling injuries, or a coffin is because God has given me to you as a gift.”

I don’t think he felt the same.